


Aғᴛᴇʀ Dᴀʀᴋ ||Vᴀʀɪᴏᴜs!Sᴏᴜᴛʜ Pᴀʀᴋ x OC||

by RobbieBlue



Category: South Park, South Park: The Fractured But Whole - Fandom
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angry Kyle Broflovski, Bad Jokes, Bisexual Craig Tucker, Bisexual Kenny McCormick, Bisexual Male Character, Blood and Violence, Bruises, Canonical Character Death, Clyde Donovan & Craig Tucker Friendship, Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Craig Tucker is Bad at Feelings, Cross-Posted on Quotev, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Depressed Stan Marsh, Developing Friendships, Divorce, Enemies to Friends, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, F/F, F/M, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, Immortal Kenny McCormick, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, My First South Park Fic, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobbieBlue/pseuds/RobbieBlue
Summary: ((Rewrite of Set Me Aflame))RHYS HADLEY has lived in cities all over the world, but none of them have ever been like South Park. When her mother decides to move to the small hick-town in Colorado一after Rhys gets into a brutal fight with one of her peers一she has to make the best of it. She doesn't expect to make friends so quickly. She definitely doesn't except a simple misunderstanding to be the reason she's thrown into the middle of a superhero turf war, but she might be the only one that can keep them from killing each other.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Craig Tucker/Original Female Character(s), Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak (Mentioned), Kenny McCormick/Original Female Character(s), Kyle Broflovski/Original Female Character(s), Red/Kevin Stoley, Stan Marsh/Original Female Character(s), Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger (mentioned), Token Black/Nichole Daniels
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. 01. Sᴇʟᴄᴏᴜᴛʜ

****

**Song for this Chapter:** [_J_ _oji -_ Yeah Right](https://youtu.be/Xzaxx1__ZPI)

**Selcouth**

( _adj_.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous

The mountain road stretches for miles, leading me to an uncertain destination. I'm sure the towering, coniferous trees on either side would be pleasant to look at, but trying to stay on the winding road leaves me little opportunity for sightseeing. 

It's been a few hours since another car has passed by. It's not surprising, this road is several miles out of the way of any highway, but after living amidst the hustle and bustle of a big city, a barren road gives off Walking Dead vibes.

When my eyes flit over to the dark-haired woman beside me for the first time in an hour, she’s silently pouring over a thick stack of files. She studies each one carefully before scribbling something down every few minutes. I frown and go back to staring at the deserted road.

She hasn’t even told me anything about where we’re moving to other than it’s a snowy, little mountain town in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere Colorado. South Park, I think she'd called it. I have no idea why she would pick such a place to live; I know for a fact that we don't have any family there.

I yawn, stretching my fingers after gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight. My mind, slightly fuzzy, wanders as I listen to the GPS’s commands. 

I don’t know what to expect. Sure, I’ve moved around a lot, but I’ve always lived in huge cities on the coast, never a landlocked, podunk mountain town with a population of less than one thousand. Only ever experiencing small towns through a television screen, just makes me dread it more.

Finally turning into town, I'm met with many oddly colored houses. Most of them are almost identical. Two-story, large detached garage, a large fenced-in backyard, and on either side of the small porches are evergreen shrubs. Many driveways and even parts of the sidewalks are covered in colorful chalk drawings. A few bikes lay abandoned in front lawns from children rushing inside for dinner.

It's kinda charming in a way.

The house my mother bought is sky-blue with a large covered front porch. The shrubs on each side of the porch's steps are overgrown, and a handful of leaves litter the grass. It looks like they were going for a Victorian-era style house, but stopped halfway through to make it look like the other houses in the neighborhood.

I park in the empty driveway. My mother's Lexus is parked on the street. Her silent way of telling me she's not staying for long.

Mom quickly gets out of the jeep, smoothing out her grey pantsuit, and brushing off the invisible dirt. I roll my eyes and slouch back in my seat for a moment as I watch her approach the house. 

She hasn't spoken more than three words to me since she drove me home from the hospital nearly two days ago. Where right after lecturing me in the ER, she tells me that she’s already bought a house and has shipped my things to Colorado. 

I'm beyond used to change at this point. I kind of thrive off of it in a way, but that doesn’t stop me from being unbelievably pissed at my mother for going back on her promise.

Sighing deeply, I slide out of the jeep and stretch my arms above my head, causing all of my vertebrae to pop and extend like a bendy straw as I look around.

It’s only early September, but it already feels like autumn. The leaves have even already started to change and fall.

It's not a bad looking place. Many trees and mountains surround the area. There's no one around, except in front of a sage-green house across the street, a middle-aged man wearing a yarmulke rakes up the few leaves that have fallen onto his grass. 

He glances up once I shut the drivers-side door and stares for a moment before he awkwardly waves. Trying to be polite, I wave back as I grab my duffle bag from the backseat and trudge up the walkway. Every step of the porch creeks as I ascend the front door. 

One step through the threshold of the house and my nose scrunches up. The inside of the house is no warmer than the outside, and it smells like dust. Clearly, no one has lived here in years. Yellow paint on the walls is faded and the carpet has collected so much dust over the years that the khaki color is more of a grey.

The living room looks huge since the only piece of furniture is the charcoal couch. If I squint, I can still see the cherry Kool-aid stain I made when I was five. Past the stairs is a wide archway that leads to a large kitchen. Two doors occupy a small alcove under the stairs: the first is just a coat closet, and the other leads to a basement. The basement is large, definitely bigger than the living room. I grimace at the big boxes stacked in one of the corners; my gym equipment. Unpacking those always sucks, especially when I'm by myself. 

On the other side of the basement is a washer and dryer, a thick layer of dust covering both. Great... even more cleaning to do...

Mom stands in the middle of the living room when I come back upstairs. She makes a questioning face as if she’s waiting for a full report on what I think of the house so far.

“It’s okay, I guess,” I say plainly.

Her arms fall to her sides as a faint annoyed look overtakes her sharp features. She sighs, pushing up her glasses. “Go upstairs, your things are already in the master bedroom.”

I nod and stomp upstairs to be greeted by four open doors; three bedrooms and a large bathroom at the end of the hall. The first room on the left, my mother has claimed. 

Her room is plain: just a bed, a dresser, and a desk. She never decorates, which makes her room seem more like a prison cell. There isn't even a touch of color, only different shades of grey and brown. 

The adjacent room _一_ walls painted grey as well _一_ is the same size and is left empty for me to do whatever I want with it. I walk over to one of the two windows and peer outside to see a backyard with a large, covered patio. 

I’ve never lived in a proper house with a big backyard before. I’ve always had a whole section of the beach to myself and could surf until my muscles gave out. But something tells me I won’t be doing a whole lot of surfing in South Park.

On the bright side, maybe I can finally get a dog.

The only door to the opposite side of the hall is the master bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, this room is an earthy green color. My eyes scan over the multitude of cardboard boxes that have been haphazardly piled in one corner.

Huffing, I set my duffle on my bed before rifling through it. I change out of the clothes I’ve been wearing all day into black yoga pants and a t-shirt before also pulling on my orange, HBHS Oilers hoodie, and sneakers. 

I grab my first-aid bag and walk into the bathroom. 

Taking a glance in the mirror, I cringe. The bruises look way worse; dark purple and blue, meaning they haven't even started to heal yet. Hopefully, it's the darkest they get. 

As I begin tying my honey-auburn hair up, my eyes trace over the fist-size bruise that covers the left half of my mouth and part of my cheek, flitting to the bandage under my bruised right eye, before finally to the sclera of my right eye which is scarlet.

" _A couple of bruised ribs and a subconjunctival hemorrhage! Are you serious一You're lucky that's the worse thing you're walking away with. That boy might have to eat from a tube for the rest of his life!"_

I shake my head vigorously, attempting to dislodge her grating voice from my subconscious. I stare down at my hands as I grip the edge of the counter to see the fresh scabs and bruises on my knuckles. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault _一_ if he hadn't of punched me first...

Like an explosion, an unusual burning feeling engulfs my body. My head pounds and spins as I gasp, my lungs pleading for air. I sway back and forth having to lean on the counter to stop myself from collapsing. My vision clouds. 

Eyes wide, I choke, thankfully rushing to the toilet in time to unload my stomach contents. I lean against the porcelain, coughing and gagging like some lightweight sorority girl until my senses regain control. I stay there for a while, sitting on the cool, tile floor while my skull pulses in rhythm. 

I stand on shaky legs, stumble back to the sink, and rinse out my mouth before knocking back a few painkillers. "What the fuck..." I groan, my throat now scratchy and aggravated.

After a few moments of me leaning against the sink with closed eyes, I start removing my bandage. The exposed wound is tender and still bleeding slightly. I gently rub bruise cream on my face before applying antibiotic ointment to my cut and the split in my lower lip. Wincing, I carefully bandage the gash under my eye.

Note to self: Never again fight an asshole who's wearing a class ring.

Mom stands in the same spot, speaking with someone on the phone when I stumble back to the first floor. She drones on and on to who I assume is one of her co-workers. I simply block her out and wander into the kitchen, peeking into the fridge.

I scowl. _Nothing_. 

Not that I want my mother grocery shopping for me (the fridge would probably be filled with microwave dinners and boxed wine), but I at least expected a few water bottles. I swing open the pantry doors, hoping for any convenient. 

Nope, just two cans of beans and a box of probably stale corn flakes. Must've left by the last owners, so who knows how long they've been there.

When Mom hangs up, her businesswoman persona doesn’t drop. She doesn’t smile, but she does look up at me like she’s just now noticed that I’m a couple of inches taller than her. "I'm leaving for London in the morning." I make a small grunt of acknowledgement as I dump the old food in the trash. "After that, I'm heading straight back to the lab. I won't be back for awhile."

"What a surprise," I mumble under my breath.

Her French tip nails pluck a bit of fuzz off of my hoodie before setting her hand on my shoulder. “Listen, I think this change will be good for you. We can establish a new life一”

“We?” I ask bitterly.

Mom scowls as her cold, dark umber eyes study my beaten face. “Behave while I’m gone,” she sighs, grazing her thumb over the split in my bottom lip, “I don't need anymore calls from the hospital, or God-forbid a police station. I know he didn't raise you like一” 

I recoil, swatting her hands away. “Right, cuz’ you were always around一” Her face morphs into anger as she opens her mouth to interject “一and I just got into a fight, I didn't try and shoot up a fucking school. Stop treating me like I'm some fucking psycho.”

She straightens, obviously put off by my tone, but she doesn’t do anything to correct my behavior. She was never meant to be a mother. If she’s not pretending that I don’t exist, she’s trying to argue with me. She’s always been cold and distant, even if she tries to fake a motherly attitude on the odd occasion.

Before about a year and a half ago, I hadn’t seen my mother since my parents split up when I was little. Nearly eleven years. My father told me once that she had just decided to give up custody. I was upset then, but now, after knowing the slightest bit about her, I'm not surprised. I'm not entirely sure what she does for work (other than she’s some kind of scientist or doctor or whatever), but she’s the kind of woman who puts every single drop of focus into her work, thus ignoring me in the process. She has also got the infuriating habit of not telling me anything until the last second. 

“I need fresh air.” I push past her before she can retort and start to foot it down the sidewalk.

After a few minutes, I end up on Main St. Various shops line the road. Everything from a bank to a taco place to an... abortion clinic? It's strangely quiet; only a couple of people occupy the sidewalk. Some give me odd looks; others just ignore me entirely and go on about their Saturday afternoons. 

I continue trekking and eventually end up at a small coffee house. My temples still throbbing as I pull the glass door open. Maybe I just need to sleep. 

Even though the door jingles, the boy behind the counter is in his own little world. His tongue poking out somewhat as he cleans an unusual machine. 

The walls of the café are almost a neon green that contrasts nicely with the dark wood flooring. The front wall is almost completely glass, looking out to the street. The wall opposite the counter displays large abstract paintings and several photos of what seems to be the owner's family photos and other people around town.

The counter is made out of light-colored wood. In the middle of it is a built-in glass display full of pastries and other baked goods. Damn, they look tasty, but I’m far too frustrated to eat anything.

The male's light blonde hair sticks out in every which way. He wears a black apron over a coffee-stained flannel and skinny jeans. His skin is pretty pale, light freckles dotting his cheekbones; dark bags sit under his eyes. He looks and acts as if he hasn’t slept in weeks, and for all I know, it could be true.

“Could I get a drink?” I ask softly in order to not startle him, but my efforts are in vain as he jumps a foot in the air.

“GAH!” Seemingly on instinct, he launches the weirdly shaped metal component in his hand in my direction. I snatch it out of the air before it hit my face almost on instinct, clutching the object tightly in my fist with wide eyes. 

When I open my hand, the small object has pierced the pale skin of my middle finger. I hiss, removing it from my flesh. “Might wanna sanitize that again,” I say, setting the piece on a napkin.

“O-oh Jesus, you’re bleeding!” Instead of picking up the object as I thought, he takes my injured hand in his, pulling me forward so that I’m clumsily leaning against the counter. 

“You really don’t need to一” An involuntary wince leaves my mouth. The blonde either doesn’t hear me or ignores me as he takes another napkin and gently presses it to my cut. His hands are as steady as a surgeon as if he wasn’t just vibrating five seconds ago. 

When the bleeding subsides, he retrieves a band-aid from his back pocket and delicately wraps it around my finger. It’s yellow with little cartoon honey bees. 

His own hands are covered in the same colorful band-aids. How does he injure himself so often working in coffee shop? “It’s the only kind I have left一I uh, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Nah, it's cute,” I mumble, poking at it lightly. “Thanks, mate.” He glances up to meet my eyes and freezes. His cerulean eyes grow wide as he gawks at my face, studying every injury. Usually, I don’t mind the attention, but his panicky gaze has me shifting my weight awkwardly. “Dude, ya' good?” I lift an eyebrow after a good thirty seconds of him wordlessly staring.

Squeaking, the blonde goes back to being a twitchy mess. “Y-y-yes, I’m so s-so sorry.”

“No worries,” I reply with a shrug, shoving my hands in my hoodie pocket.

“U-uh, what c-can I get you?” 

“Iced mocha, extra espresso.” 

“Here or to g-go?”

“To go, I guess.” He nods and gets to work. 

The atmosphere here is tranquil. Calming, lo-fi music plays from the speakers, and, of course, the scent of coffee helps me decompress just a little. I take a deep breath, managing to quell some of my anger from being around my mother. 

My eyes connect with a table of boys, obviously friends of his. From the looks on their faces, they had watched the interaction between me and the blonde with interest. They all watch me closely, but the teen in the wheelchair fixes me with a peculiarly scrutinizing stare. 

A shiver runs down my spine as I look away quickly. What the actual fuck? 

“Here you go.” The blond sets the beverage in front of me, snapping me out of my confusion.

“‘Kay, how much?” I ask, pulling out my wallet.

“No-Nothing! I hurt you, i-it’s on me!”

I throw up my eyebrows. “Ya’ sure?” 

“Of c-course.” He smiles nervously, holding out his hand. “I’m Tweek, by the way.”

“Rhys Hadley.” I shake it, trying not to wince when he clutches my hand a bit too tight. “Nice to meet'cha,” I say just as my phone dings. I retrieve the device from my pocket, checking the screen, my expression sours.

Tweek twitches with a small grunt as his wrings his hands. “Are you一are you alright?” 

My eyes drift away from the screen to Tweek and his concerned expression. I exhale gently, nodding. “Yeah.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and sip from my cup. As soon as the bittersweet liquid hits my lips, most of the tension seeps from my muscles. 

I head to the door, but not before turning to smile at the blonde. “Thanks for the coffee.” The door jingles again as I walk through the threshold of the door, pretending not to notice all five boys’ eyes as I leave.

The sun hangs low in the sky as I stroll down the sidewalk, drink in hand. Part of me wants to go home to sleep; the other part wants to stay away from the house until she leaves. 

Shouting breaks me from my thoughts. The loud voices and the sound of a rubber ball bouncing on asphalt draw me to a small park like a moth to a flame. Four boys stand around on a basketball court. Three tall boys and a shorter, stockier boy. 

"Aw, c'mon guys, just one more game," whines the brunet as he passes the ball to a boy in a green hat. He's a few inches taller than me with soft-looking, light brown hair and matching brown eyes.

"I don't know, dude. I have a Chemistry test to study for—"

"Oh yeah? You're totally just sick of being beaten into the ground. How's it feel to lose—"

"Shut the fuck up, Fatass! I'm captain of the basketball team—and the only reason you're winning is because Scott can block my shots!"

"I'm not fat, you fucking Jew!"

"C'mon guys, let's just play—"

"Shut up, Clyde!"

I walk closer and stand next to a solitary boy on the bench next to the court, sipping my coffee. The first thing I notice is his bright yellow hoodie. The second being the crutches he holds between his legs. "Is it normally like this around here?"

He jolts, whipping around in his seat. "Oh J-Jesus f-f-fuck—" he curses, staring up at me, startled. "Uh, y-yeah, they're always at each-eachother's throats." He pauses for a second; looking at his feet before looking back at me. "I ta-take it you just m-mo-moved in?" 

"Yup," I reply, straw in mouth. Watching the two boys on the court argue, I plop down next to him, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. "Name's Rhys." 

"Jimmy Val-Valmer or K-King of Com-Comedy—whichever y-you p-pre-prefer." He overdramatically offers his hand for me to shake. I return the gesture with a small grin.

The fat boy whips around mid-conversation. "—but that doesn't matter, right, Jimmy?—wait, who一” “Woah, girl!” “一SHUT UP, CLYDE! Who the fuck is this bitch?" Again, all eyes on me... yay...

"Rhys," I say, feigning apathy, but I already have the urge to punch his teeth in. I flex my fingers and exhale slowly. 

The boy in the green hat walks forwards, annoyance flashing in his olive-green eyes at his friend's behavior. "Cartman, dude, leave her alone. She’s obviously new."

Cartman straightens up. “And why the fuck would I do that, Kyle?” He glowers and crosses his arms. The way he pronounces the other boy’s name is awkward, like he’s a foreigner saying it for the first time. “What the fuck happened to your face? Did your pimp beat you for misbehaving?”

"Wow, impressive, did ya' come up with that one all by yourself?" 

He blinks at me with a stupid, confused expression; mouth opening and closing as his brain struggles for anything. His face turns as red as his hoodie as he marches towards me. "Alright you ginger, hippie bitch! You wanna go? C'mon, let's go! Stand the fuck up!"

"Oh my God, Cartman!" Kyle scolds and yanks him back by the upper arm.

Looking between us, Cartman huffs, "ya' know what, fuck this! I'm not gonna stand here and be disrespected, goddammit! I'm goin' home." With a final glare at me, he turns on his heel and marches down the sidewalk. 

"Fuck, mate, what's his problem?" 

"He’s a fat, racist, self-centered, intolerant, manipulating sociopath, that's his problem, and believe it or not, but when we were kids he was _waaaaaay_ fucking worse," Kyle rants, "if this was middle school, he probably would've tried to fight you right here."

"Yikes."

He sighs, "sorry, me and him have history."

"Ya' don't say?" I smirk.

Clyde groans loudly interrupting us. "I thought we were gonna play another game."

"There's only three of us now. It's kinda hard to play two-on-two with three people," the fourth boy—who I assume is Scott—finally speaks, a barely noticeable lisp gracing his words. His brown hair is messy and he's constantly running his fingers through it.

"No there's not," argues Clyde, looking pointedly at me, as he turns on puppy eyes. "Wanna play, Rhys?" 

"Why not?" I shrug, standing before tossing my empty cup in a nearby trash can. He cheers, passing the ball to me. 

+++

Nearly an hour later, the four of us are out of breath and sweaty. I stare Scott down as I dribble the ball on the other side of the court. 

I charge forward. He moves to block, but I pivot just in time and shoot. 

It smacks the backboard before falling through the hoop. "Fuck yeah!" 

Clyde cheers loudly, meeting my hand for a high-five. "HA! Me and Rhys fuckin' owned your asses!" I chuckle and walk over to Jimmy's bench where I abandoned my hoodie partway through the game.

"Rhys and I, dude, and Rhys 'owned our asses' you're deadweight." 

"Hey!" Clyde grumbles, pouting at the shorter boy before his personality does a full one-eighty. "Dude, I'm starvin'. We should totally go to Raisins," he says, ruffling his damp hair. 

"Dude no," Kyle grimaces with a shiver, "I hate it there."

"We could go to F-Freeman's," Jimmy offers.

"Oh yeah, totally! Tacos!"

I chuckle watching the boy's excitement before a soft buzzing catches my attention. Snatching up my phone, I glance at the screen. I groan again, pulling my hoodie back on. 

"Whatcha think Rhys?"

I turn towards Scott. "Sorry what?"

"Tacos or pizza?"

"Actually," I sigh, "I should get home before my mother has an aneurysm."

"I should too," Kyle states.

"Boo, you guys suck." Clyde sticks out his tongue.

I grin. "How 'bout tomorrow?"

Clyde, looking up at me like a kid on Christmas, whoops, "hell yeah, man!" He rushes over shoving his iPhone in my face. "Gimme your number and we'll pick you up for breakfast!"

Looking at his beaming face, I can't help but laugh, covering my mouth with one hand as I take his phone with the other. I punch in my number, hand it back, and wave as Clyde, Jimmy, and Scott start walking away from the court.

"So, do you know your way home?" Kyle asks, adjusting his hat.

"Honesty, I have no fucking clue. I kinda left in a hurry," I say rubbing the back of my neck with a slightly embarrassed laugh.

He chuckles. "No problem, what house?"

"Sky-blue house on uh... Bonanza St. I think一It's next to this _ugly_ lime-green house."

Kyle snorts. "That's Cartman's house."

"Fuck, really?" 

"Yup, but I live across the street from you so I'll walk you home—speaking of, I'm sorry about Cartman, earlier... Clyde too, he's very excitable."

"Nah, Clyde's fine. I've never met someone that's that excited to hang out." 

"We rarely have new families move into South Park. It's refreshing to see a new face." He offers me a small smile, which I return.

It doesn't take long for us to reach the front of his house, and as he said mine is across the street. His is the sage-green house, so the man from earlier must be his father.

“Hey, Rhys, if it’s okay for me to… uh ask… uh一”

“Why's my face so fucked?” I joke without looking at him.

“I wasn’t gonna say it like that, but yeah,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

I smirk. “I got into it with someone shortly after I came home from summer break一it’s a long story.” 

Before he can reply, a stout woman opens the front door and shouts, "Kyle Matthew Broflovski! Where on earth have you been?" Her hair, which as vibrant as the red curls that that spill out from under Kyle's hat, is tamed in some sort of beehive style. I grow increasingly uncomfortable as her glare shifts from her son to me.

He winces and glances over to me. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, mate. Good luck." He chuckles, trudging up the driveway to meet his mother as I return to my new home. 

+++

I collapse on the couch with my head in my hands as the front door slams shut, making the house tremble as if in fear. I can hear her heels click as she stomps to her car and slams that door too. 

Another argument with my mother. It escalated, of course, to the point of her leaving the house in a fury. 

She has a flight to catch in Denver in the morning anyway.

I drag my hands down my face, shoulders slumping, and glance around the almost empty living room. The room is dark. She must’ve hit the light switch on the way out.

Not that it really matters to me.

I’ve always been able to see perfectly in the dark.

* * *

Edited (11/20/2020)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the rewrite of my other story Set Me Aflame. I changed the story quite a bit and have different things planned. I only have the first chapter done as of yet, but more will come soon (hopefully).
> 
> To reiterate:
> 
> I was heavily inspired to write this by Forthwrite’s ‘I’m not a Freakin’ Bird’ and Spacetrash’s ‘Coon & Fiends’. Both stories are amazing, check ‘em out if you haven’t already and give the authors some love.
> 
> I was also inspired by Tumblr user Sarkastic's Superhero AU. Craig is referred to as Super Dude, Tweek is Wonder Storm, and Wendy is Informant instead of Call Girl. Mainly just because I like those names better and they kinda conceal the identities. I also like Sarkastic's costume designs, so I will be using them as a reference for the hero's outfits. In this, the superheroes and villains will have actual abilities.
> 
> There will be A LOT of swearing, violence and crude humor, of course. I also want to include trigger warnings here because I have the tendency to go into detail when describing violence, wounds, blood, and whatever else. If that disturbs you, take your mental health into consideration and proceed with CAUTION.
> 
> Also THANK YOU to those who have been supportive during the rewrite process! Lot of love to you guys!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and stay safe :)


	2. 02. Bᴜᴛᴛ-Fᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ Tʀᴀɪᴛᴏʀs

**Song for this Chapter:** _Sneaky Peaches and the Fuzz -_ Bedroom Floor

Kyle stares at his reflection. Last night after arriving home he was called on patrol. He spent all night flying around the town of South Park searching for anything. Not that it was any bit necessary, there hasn't been any activity in weeks. Who knows what Chaos is doing as of late, but whatever it is he's doing a good job at hiding it. 

He exhales, rubbing at the dark bags under his eyes. 

"Bubbe一"

"Jesus Mom!" He jolts and tightens the towel around his waist at the sudden intrusion. His mother stands with the bathroom door ajar, holding his phone in one hand. 

"Your friend, Clyde, has been calling you non-stop." 

Kyle groans. "Okay, mom, thanks. Could you get out now!"

"Oh, alright, Bubbe, but you are a handsome young man and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I used to change your diapers after all," Shelia reminded, pinching her son's cheek before retreating downstairs.

"M-Mom!" Face pink, Kyle slams the door and leans against it as of she will burst in again at any second. He groans again, dragging his free hand down his face.

His phone lights up with several short texts from Clyde. The last message stating, ' _me n craig r picking up jimmy otw soon_ '. So much for punctuation or capital letters...

Setting his phone back on the counter and running his fingers through his curls, Kyle quickly dresses. He crosses the hall to his room, pulls on a hoodie and his hat on his head before marching down to the first floor. 

"Where ya' going, Bubbe?" His mother calls from the dining room as she places a plate of sandwiches in front of his father. 

"The guys and I are getting breakfast with the new girl." He shrugs. 

The man at the table perks up at his son's words, lowering the paper in his hand. "The new neighbors across the street?"

"Yeah." They go silent as the teen adjusts his hat in the living room mirror. He pauses, narrowing his olive eyes when he looks back to his parents. "What?" He asks, knowing better than to take their silence as anything other than judgment.

"Nothing son, they just seem a bit... odd?" his father, Gerald, says.

Kyle rolls his eyes, arms dropping to his sides. "You guys say that every time a new family moves in. They've only been here for a day, give them some time."

"I don't know, Bubbe, I went over there and met the mother. She wasn't very polite一and did you see the bruises on that girl?"

"We played basketball with Rhys last night," Kyle offers, "she seems pretty cool."

"I don't know, Kyle, they might be dangerous. You just be careful and if she offers you anything, don't take it!"

"Oh god, mom..." He mutters under his breath. He walks out the front door just in time to see the guys pull up across the street. Clyde quickly gets out of his car and sprints up to the front door of the sky-blue house. "Hey, guys."

"Hey K-Kyle," Jimmy greets, getting out as well.

Craig just nods in acknowledgment before speaking, "who are we meeting here?"

"Clyde didn't tell you?"

The taller boy sighs. "He was babbling the whole time. I blocked him out."

"New girl in town," Kyle says, "we met her yesterday."

"Fucking great," Craig grunts, rolling his eyes. "Another girl I have to watch him shamelessly flirt with for hours一" His eyes widen as he gazes up past the ginger boy.

Kyle turns his head towards the house. "Woah," he gulps.

She's hardly recognizable from the day before. Wearing a graphic tee cut into a crop-top and high-waisted, ripped, skinny jeans. Her hair is down, falling to her mid-back, and her skin is clear of any make-up. Even her whole mood is lighter.

As Rhys locks the front door of her new home, she tugs on an army-green jacket, her keys jangling when she drops them into one of the large pockets. She turns, her jacket fluttering, and stomps down the porch steps. Clyde falls in step beside the freckled girl, talking animatedly. She throws her head back as she laughs at something he says.

Now closer, it's hard not to focus on the bruises, especially the bruise on her ribs that peeks out from under her top. It had been covered up yesterday.

She pauses a few feet in front of them. A puzzled expression forming on her face and her hands resting on her hips. "Sooo..." she says, breaking their stares, "where we goin'?" Even her voice is warmer than the night before, the slight accent even more apparent. 

"Oh yeah!" Clyde pipes up, running to the driver's side of his shiny, candy-red sports car. "Get in!" But before anyone has the chance, he turns the key. The engine sputters before falling silent. He tries again and again, reaching the same result. "Goddammit!" He slams the car door and stomps his foot like a child.

Jimmy coughs a laugh earning a tearful glare from the boy. "S-sorry."

"I just got it back from the shop..." Clyde whines. 

Rhys sighs before fishing out her keys. The burnt orange Jeep in the driveway beeps as she unlocks it remotely. "We can take mine."

Clyde pouts, "...alright."

The crutching of leaves draws their attention. "Ey, what are you assholes doing—" Cartman swivels, immediately spotting the girl. A somewhat panicked look overtakes his features, but he quickly narrows his mismatched eyes. "一 _oh, you_."

Rhys narrows her eyes right back. "Yeah me, motherfucker一" 

Kyle side-steps between them. The last thing he needs is for the pair to duke it out on her front lawn. Though it would be pretty amusing to see Cartman get his ass beat by another girl. "一who else did you think lived here, fatass? It was basically a town event when the moving trucks came in July."

"Yeah, but then why wasn't this bitch here?"

Rhys crosses her arms towards the short boy. "This _bitch_ was spending the summer in Melbourne with her family." 

"Well, I didn't know that." He narrows his eyes further.

And so does she. "I'm not sayin' ya did." Seconds tick by as the pair glare at each other. The other four look between themselves unsure of what to do.

"Welp, I'm uncomfy," Clyde pipes up, effectively breaking the tension, before hopping into the passenger seat of the Jeep and closing the door behind him. The remaining teens stand silent.

A snort of laughter escapes Rhys. "We should probably get goin' anyways, I'm fuckin' starving." She spins on her heel, ready to join Clyde.

"Ey! Don't think you assholes are going without meh!" Rhys stops in her tracks, rolling her eyes. Hesitant feet drag her to the back of the vehicle. She opens the rear of the Jeep, motioning for him to get in. "I'm not a dog," he huffs.

"Then you're not going."

"Fuck you, bitch. Make the Jew sit there."

She stands straighter, fists clenching at her sides. Rhys closes her eyes and relaxes a little with a deep sigh. When her eyes open, her gaze is softer towards the large teen. "If you get in and stop bein' a cunt, I'll pay for you." 

Without another word, Cartman scurries forward and crawls into the bed of the Jeep, pulling the door closed behind himself.

"How the fuck..." Kyle mumbles.

"The rare art of persuasion一"her sarcasm morphs into intrigue as her focus shifts to the taller boy beside Kyle"一oh, I don't think we've met." She steps closer to the two boys with a lopsided smile. 

Craig glances up to the silver eyes that stare him down. He half expected her to take no notice of him entirely. He doesn't even notice he's staring until she asks if he's alright.

His face flushes as he tears his pale eyes away from her. "Craig," he grunts, flipping her off and quickly walking around the Jeep to get in behind Clyde. 

Her smile turns into a confused scowl as Kyle sets a hand on her shoulder. "He's just kinda like that, don't take it personally," he tells and gets into the backseat after Jimmy. Rhys grumbles before sitting in the driver's seat一shutting her door a little harder than intended一and starting the vehicle. 

+++

The smell of burgers grilling and extra-strong coffee is a little overwhelming as Clyde leads us into the small diner, but my mouth waters all the same. In my rush to start unpacking this morning, I forgot to make a trip to the store _again_. I did manage to unpack most of the house, however.

"Oh lord," a middle-aged waitress grumbles as she stands behind the long counter. She observes us with an eagle-eye as we make our way to a booth. 

I slide into the red faux-leather booth, Clyde and Jimmy following suit. "What can I getcha ta' drink?" A bubbly voice asks from the end of the table. I meet eyes with a short blonde. Her smile falters, but she recovers in record time. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"This is Rhys, she just moved in一Rhys, this is Annie."

"Hey." I lift my hand in a half-wave.

"Nice to meetcha! The girls will be thrilled to have a new girl to hang out with." She smiles brightly and tucks a strand of curly blonde hair behind her ear. "Anyways, drinks?"

After taking our orders, Annie practically skips away to the kitchen. "How'd you get those bruises?" My head shoots up from the laminated menu in my hands. Despite his cold introduction, Craig sits across from me. He's the tallest of the group and stares at me with the same uncaring look that my mother must see every time we talk. Apathetic, pale green eyes stare me down awaiting an answer.

"Dude," Kyle scolds from beside him.

"It's alright," I say with a shrug, looking back down at my menu, "I got into a fight."

"Did you win?" Clyde asks.

I glance at my fucked up knuckles and shrug again. "Yeah."

"If you won I'd hate to see the other girl, seein' as you look like you slammed your head in a car door a few times," Cartman snarks, pulling up a chair to sit at the end of the table.

"Wasn't a girl." An awkward silence falls over the table.

"Sooo, Ruh-Rhys," Jimmy starts, changing the subject, "where ya' f-from?"

"All over一"

"Wow, specific." I shoot Craig a challenging look.

"You said Melbourne earlier, I take it you're from Australia?" Kyle guesses.

"Sorta, most of my family's from there and I lived in Sydney about half of the time growin' up, but I've spent of my highschool years in Huntington Beach... 'til now anyways," I sigh glumly.

"Why the fuck did you move here?" Cartman winces. From the look the large boy is giving Kyle, he probably kicked Cartman under the table.

"Dunno."

"Well, welcome to town," Kyle says with a sweet smile.

"Yeah, welcome to Shit Park," Craig mumbles.

I chuckle lifting my mug of coffee to my lips. "Thanks."

Craig's eyes narrow as he notices my hand; particularly the band-aid on my middle finger. With a glance to making sure nothing's amiss, I raise an eyebrow. "What?" His eyes snap up to mine.

He scowls and stares back down at his menu. "Nothing." What's his deal?

Once our food arrives, I watch Cartman's amazing (and absolutely fucking disgusting) skill of eating a burger in two bites. Kyle and I share a looked of revulsion. Clyde isn't much better; scarfing down his pancakes like a starving man. By the time both of them are done, I'm only half through my steak. And I thought I was a big eater...

After everyone is finished, I snatch up the check and stroll over to the register. I pull out my wallet, slide out the platinum card, and hand it to the waitress. 

"You didn't have to, ya' know," Clyde says, coming up behind me as the other boys head outside. 

"I wouldn't have if I hadn't wanted to." I grin and slide the credit card back into my wallet. "You guys have been really cool with me already, so uh... thanks." I smile at him before walking out to the parking lot to join the others.

"Aww, Rhys," he sniffles, pulling me into a weird half side-hug and pressing his cheek against mine, "you're so cute!"

"Argh, fuck off," I laugh and push him away.

Without watching where I'm walking, I bump into Craig's back. "Fuck, sorry," I wince as he glares over his shoulder. Clyde stiffens beside me as he recognizes what's causing the boys to stand in the middle of the parking lot. I peek around Craig.

Six boys一one in a wheelchair一stand side-by-side mirroring Craig, Kyle, Cartman, Clyde, and Jimmy. 

_The guys from the coffee shop._

An unmistakable mop of messy, light blond hair sticks out among them. "Hey Tweek," I smile with a wave. The boys around me jump before staring at me with wide eyes.

"Ack一R-Rhys?" He glances frantically between my companions before sheepishly looking back at me. "I-Is...is um一is your h-hand okay?"

My smile widens. "Yeah, mate. Just fine."

The one who seems to be the leader of the other group stares at me before shaking his head. His indigo eyes fall on Cartman. "This isn't over, Eric. We _are_ going to continue talking about this later."

"Fuck off, _Kinny._ We aren't gonna talk about shit, besidesI don't need any of your fleas." 

Kenny's scowl deepens. He opens his mouth to say something, but the dark-haired boy beside him beats him to it. "Only one day here, and you're already BFFs with these assholes." 

I stand straighter. Of course, he's talking to me, but what's with the hostile tone? "Eh..." My brain struggles for a response.

"Fuck off, Stan." Kyle's words drip with venom. Anger plain on his face. "She can befriend anyone she wants." Stan glares at Kyle before turning to me; as if I have anything to do with this current situation. 

A dark-skinned boy on the other side of Kenny sighs. "Can we not do this right now," he drawls, "I'd like to eat and get on with the day."

Kenny nods before leading his friends past us, but not without sparing another glance at me. 

"What the fuck was that all about?"

"Butt-fucking traitors," Cartman seethes.

"What?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "Th-they u-use to be frien-friends of ours."

"Oh—Oh shit."

"Yeah."

"Let's just go to my place and play videogames or something," Kyle speaks up. He looks to me for my opinion, a small smile on his face.

I reciprocate his smile, shrugging. "Sounds fun."

They're all still deathly quiet once we get back into the car. I glance in the rearview mirror, meeting eyes with Kyle. He looks away as I put on my seatbelt. What the fuck is up between them and the other group of boys? I want to pry, but I just met them. Still, I can't stand the weird vibe they're giving off.

I start the Jeep and pull out of the parking lot. The diner Clyde directed us to is a little way out of town so I have to take the mountain road back. It's quiet for a while, only the sound of a light drizzle hitting the windshield.

"This is BULLSHIT!"

I yelp, screeching the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road, and whip around in my seat. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" I shout at Cartman, glaring at the side of his head as he sits in the back. 

He ignores me and continues. "They're such fucking asshole traitors! We shouldn't be fucking around, we should DO SOMETHING!" He growls.

"Cartman, dude, leave it alone." 

"NO, Kyle," Cartman argues, "we have to do something... like—like burn down one of their houses."

"That's fucked up, man," Clyde mutters beside me. The one thing I've learned about the brunet boy in the short span that I've known him is that he's loud and excitable, but now he wistfully watches out the window with a small frown on his face.

Craig sighs, leaning his head back. "We aren't doing anything, fatass."

"Yeah, wah-wasn't your whole t-th-thing last year that y-you want-wanted to prove you were bet-bet-better than them?"

"I—" Cartman huffs, crossing his arms and slouching back. He rubs his face before looking around. "Why'd we stop?" he asks, just now noticing my glare. 

"Because you decided to scream while I was driving," I snap while pulling back onto the road.

The last thing I want to do after moving to a new town is play detective, but I can't help but wonder what the boys mean. Tweek was nice to me. I mean he hurt me, but it wasn't on purpose and I did sneak up on him, I guess. 

But the other boys... They were kind of strange. But none of that answers the history between them.

I park in my driveway, and all of us pour out of the car before walking over to Kyle's house. He leads us upstairs to a tidy bedroom. 

Kyle, Clyde, and I sit on the plush carpet in front of the large flat-screen. Craig and Jimmy take up residence on Kyle's bed, and Cartman plops down in Kyle's desk chair. Kyle fires up his XBOX One, handing me a controller. "Mortal Kombat 11. Loser hands off their controller."

I smirk. "Game on." 

I beat Kyle, Clyde, and Cartman before losing to Jimmy. Though I am avenged when Jimmy loses to Craig in the round after. The tension from earlier is lifted as we laugh and joke. I leaned back on my hands with a dumb smile on my face as Craig whoops Kyle's ass as Sud-Zero. Clyde cheers for his best friend, and Cartman cheers because Kyle is losing. 

"Dude, you suck at this game," I laugh as Clyde loses to Craig too. 

"Shut up," he huffs, playfully nudging me with his shoulder before handing off the controller.

"Goddammit!" Cartman yells. He smacks the controller into my hand as he also loses to Craig. 

"Fuck yeah!" I cheer, pumping my fist as Craig gives his controller to Jimmy.

It goes on like this for two or three hours. We don't keep score, but Craig definitely won the most whereas Clyde only won three games the whole time. 

Afterward, Clyde, Craig, Jimmy, and I walk back across the street so I can drive them home. Clyde apologizes about his car, saying his dad will have it towed tomorrow. They don't live far—only a few minutes down the street—but the weather changes so fast that it's pouring by the time I get home. 

+++

I shove open the door, and my sweat-soaked shirt cools instantly. "Fuck..." I hiss, pulling the wet fabric away from sticking to my skin. Even though it's barely forty degrees outside, the 24hr convenience store insists on blasting the air conditioning. It's colder in here than it is outdoors.

The cashier behind the counter, an overweight man with thinning hair, pays no mind me at all. He simply flips through a magazine while shoving skittles into his mouth every few seconds. 

The mix of old hot dog grease and lemon-scented floor cleaner is an assault on my senses as I make my way to the back. The refrigerated case door makes a loud noise as the vacuum seal breaks. I spot my beverage of choice. On the bottom shelf in the back... Awesome.

Just as I crouch down to grab it, the front door jingles, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"Give me everything in the r-register!" A shaky voice shouts. "Now."

"O-Okay man _一"_

"NOW! Or I'll fuckin' _一_ I'll fuckin' blow your brAINS ALL OVER THE FUCKING WALL!"

My eyes widen as I rise up just enough to peek over the aisles. Another man holds the tubby cashier, who has backed up against the wall of cigarettes, at gunpoint. The gaunt man twitches, continually using his free hand to rub his face. He looks around erratically for anyone else in the small building, but before he has the chance to notice me, I duck back down. Five AM is way too early for this shit.

I carefully set the red Gatorade on the grimy tile floor and close the refrigerator door as soft as possible. The vacuum seal betrays me, making another loud noise as it seals shut. "Shitshitshitfuckshit一" I curse under my breath and slide over to the aisle, pressing my back against the snack shelf.

The skinny man whips around, firing off a shot in my general direction. "W-Who's there!" Another shot. The refrigerator door shatters, showering me in shards of broken glass. I shield my face the best I can. "COME OUT!" He shrieks, bordering on hysteria. 

Should I do something? or maybe just slip out the back? 

I shake my head. Fuck it.

Steadying my breathing, I watch my reflection in one of the remaining glass doors disappear. I stand slowly, glass crunching under my sneakers. When I silently make my way to the front of the 7-11, the man is waving the gun around wildly. "WHERE ARE YOU!" 

I rip the gun from his hand and put him in a chokehold. The man smells awful, like urine and dead things. He screams—writhing against me—and claws at my arm making me suck in a breath through clenched teeth. Not that I really blame him. Drugged up or not, something you can't see grabbing you is probably terrifying. I apply pressure to his throat with my forearm, restricting his airways. 

He kicks and gasps for breath for a few minutes before falling limp. I release my hold on him, allowing his body to flop to the floor. After checking his pulse to ensure that he is still alive, I walk back to the coolers, pick up my drink, and grab a few protein bars for good measure. The items become invisible as soon as they come in contact with my skin.

The tubby cashier gasps as the five-dollar bill I throw onto the counter seems to appear out of thin air.

So much for pretending I'm normal...

* * *

Edited (12/17/2020)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say... Mortal Kombat is so fucking brutal and I'm so fucking here for it.
> 
> This took soooooo much longer to write than I intended. I'd be lying if I said that didn't have to delete and rewrite this a few times. It just wasn't working out how I'd wanted it to, but I'm pretty pleased with this chapter. The very beginning of some friendships and rivalries. 
> 
> Also a small glimpse of one of Rhys' abilities: Invisibility. More will be revealed as the story progresses, of course.
> 
> I'm also trying out small bits of 3rd person pov which will probably follow a different one of the boys each time.
> 
> and as always I'll probably go through every once in a while a make small edits.


End file.
